1000 Stars Are Passing By

Kayden’s POV

“Hey faggot,” I heard that familiar voice and instantly a huge hand pushed me into the set of lockers.

“Fuck off, Sam,” I said and looked him in the face. He looked tough. He was big, a football player, and was different from most of the people in this school, which is what he thought made him superior and able to pick on everyone.

“What did you say?” he growled, pushing me against the wall.

There were one of two things I could do. Kick him in the balls and run or....kick him in the balls and run.

So I did.

And as soon as I started running-off to the cafeteria for lunch of course-a teacher caught me and held me back.

“I saw what you did Mr. Todd. Principal’s office now.”

I scowled and walked with the teacher to the principal’s office. See, every time I get that bit of justice, it always blows up in my face.

“Fuck my lifeeee,” I growled under my breath and walked into that ever familiar office. It smelled like Lysol and middle-aged women. My favorite.

“We’re going to have to call your parents, Mr. Todd,” the principal’s booming voice filled the whole office.

“My mom.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

How many times did I have to remind him? I mean really, must I repeat to everyone that my dad is not and has never been around?

I sat still and quiet in that office for a half hour until my mom came. There really was no point in pleading my case to the principal, he wouldn’t believe me.

My mom walked into the office and sat down. She smelled like her favorite perfume. She told me she’d been wearing that stuff since she was a teen.

What does she look like, you ask? Though I’m a teenager and I’m supposed to hate my mom, I really don’t. She’s one of my best friends.

She was young when she had me-nineteen or something. I’m not mad at her for leaving my dad, I just wish she would talk about him...

She’s got beautiful long, blonde hair, that she usually straightens, and she has amazing fashion. She was a fashion designer after all, and now just plans fashion shows around the area. I go with her sometimes, pick up hot girls...and guys.

I’m bisexual. Don’t hate me.

Usually mom was cool with me. She gave me a good life, gave me everything I needed and more. I was fortunate. Most single moms didn’t have much. But she did get paid lots when she was a fashion designer in New York. She really didn’t talk about that past life though, so that’s all I knew.

But when I got in trouble for stuff like this, she was pissed. She’d been my age. She’d been bullied. But I just didn’t want to admit to her I had a bully problem.

“What did you do this time?”

“Kicked Sam in the balls.”

She sighed and listened while the principal rambled on about my punishments, detentions, everything like that. After he was done he told me to leave, I was suspended for the rest of the day.

Mom pulled me out of the room and didn’t talk to me as we went to the car or on the way home.

I got home and ran up to my room instantly.

We had a big house. My room had a full bathroom and huge closet filled with clothes from all over the world from nearly every designer. I think that was the gay side of me. I loved designer clothes.

I threw my backpack on the floor and laid down on my bed.

I heard a knock on the door.

“Can I come in?” I heard mom ask.

“Yeah,” I sighed.

She looked distressed. “Kayden, I know you’re getting bullied. And I’m not asking you to talk to me about it. It happens to everyone. But I just want to talk about things in general,” she sat next to me on my bed.

“Mom I don’t need to talk about...”

“I’m sorry Kayden. I...I wish your dad would be around. I know I don’t talk about him much. Partially it hurts when I do. But I’m confident you’ll meet him, one day.”

“Mom can’t you tell me who he is? What his name is?”

She just smiled at me. “I’m confident that you’ll find that out too.”

I sighed. “I’m not saying I hate my life mom. I just think we’d both be much better off if he was here. Since you don’t speak badly of him I’m guessing he wasn’t a bad person.”

She smiled again. “He wasn’t. He was practically perfect. And even practically perfect doesn’t mean a marriage goes all right. There were things in our marriage that wouldn’t have worked out. I didn’t want you growing up in such an environment.”

“Was he a druggie?”

Mom giggled. “Nah. He was pretty straightedge actually.”

“That’s cool,” I smiled, trying to imagine him, but I just couldn’t.

“Did he look like me?”

“Just like you, save for the eyes and the hair,” she said and got up off my bed. “You want Chinese?”

“You fucking know it,” I declared. Yeah, I curse around my mom.

She kissed my forehead and left, leaving me to sit on my room and think.

Sometimes, I think I think too much. Does that make sense?